Entirely Unexpected (Not Entirely Unwelcomed)
by ShippingLehane
Summary: Being a baby gay was a nightmare. Having Kurt 'Lady' Hummel as her rainbow guide was worse. And Brittany S. Pierce was supposed to be just her training wheels - it made sense to practice on the weird blonde since the girl was easier than two plus two equation. So why, for the love of flannel, did Santana have to go and develop those stupid feelings for the girl?


_**A/N: **__The 100th episode of glee lured me in with false promises and rainbow-riding unicorns. But no regrets, because after al those years of 'glee' passing by me, I'm finally united with the OTP I didn't know I craved. _

_BRITTANA all the way, people._

_I might have gotten super excited and wrote a fic... Oh well._

_All I can say is you're in for quite a ride._

_Please review!_

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"Porcelain!"

Oh Jesus.

"Well, 'Smurfette' would be more appropriate right now, I guess. By the way, blue is so not your color, I might ask the guys to give you cherry flavored slushies from now on, Lady Hummel."

That was so not what Kurt needed, and it wasn't about changing the color of a syrup that inevitably ended up on his fabulous outfit daily, no matter how amazing it was – if he did say so himself.

"Do you have slushie in your ear channel, Gay Wonder? I'm _talking_ to you."

Four names in less than a minute meant some serious trouble. Santana must be either super-pissed or feeling particularly mischievous – and, knowing Santana Lopez, the two weren't necessarily mutually exclusive. The girl always had her 'angry' turned on at all times.

And yes. _That_, or rather _who_, was exactly what Kurt did not need right now. He was already stressing out enough as his mind was frantically trying to remember where the nearest dry-cleaning was since the one he used shut down for repairing.

So no, Kurt Hummel did not need the added stress in the form of – undoubtedly gorgeous and just as vicious – Santana Lopez. Or 'Satan', as he and Mercedes lovingly dubbed the Latina demon.

Because seriously, the girl wasn't just high school evil. She was evil, evil. Her manipulation schemes left Kurt both in awe and paralyzing fear, and to be on the receiving end of one of them was his second worst nightmare, right after being seen wearing brown shoes with black pants.

But, as unwanted as the nearing confrontation was, ignoring Santana was worse than playing her game. _No one_ ignored Santana and got away with it. As far as he knew, those who tried never lived to tell the tale. Well, he didn't know that much, but he made up for the lack of knowledge with his vivid imagination. And in his imagination, Santana slowly and thoroughly tortured her victims wearing her infamous smirk and then stared at mangled corpses with sinister glee.

Much like she looked like right now, glaring at him with those bottomless black orbs of hers that made Kurt shiver, and not in a good way.

"Y-yes, uh, h-hi, Santana," he managed to stutter out, inwardly cringing at how high his voice sounded. He did, however, make a quick note of revisiting this dark place filled with fear he was in now later at glee rehearsals to try and hit that damned _Defying Gravity_ note.

What? Being the future Broadway star demanded serious dedication.

"Oh my God," the angry scowl deepened as Lucifer's evil step-mother rolled her eyes. "The level of pathetic you got going on is _exhausting._ Stop with the whole squirrel-on-crack shivering and just _relax_ already. I'm not going to do you any harm – well, physically, at least."

That did nothing to calm Kurt's nerves, because anyone with at least a spoonful of brain knew that the worst damage that could come from Santana was in her vicious, vicious words.

There was a rumor that she made a thug from Lima Heights bawl like a baby. There also was a rumor that if she didn't get to insult and humiliate someone every hour, she got constipated. Despite being on top of his Biology class and knowing something like that wasn't scientifically possible, Kurt wholeheartedly agreed with and believed that.

It also wasn't possible for the devil spawn to exist, but here she was in flesh and Cheerios uniform, eyeing him like he was her next snack. And there was absolutely nothing sexual about it.

"Look," the eye roll made itself present again, and Kurt had to admit that the girl had it perfected. Even Mercedes didn't have half the sass Santana possessed. "Since it's clear your tongue mysteriously disappeared along with your balls – which, by the way, explains your voice far too clearly – I'm gonna be doing all the talking. Nod if you agree." She shrugged. "Not that you have to, since you don't actually have a choice."

Kurt nodded anyway, just in case.

"Good." Santana looked around the hallway, and for a fleeting second, her expression contained something other than an evil sneer. Kurt could swear that he saw hesitation and… fear?

Just for a second, it looked like Big Bad Santana Lopez was… afraid.

"Not here. Come with me." And Satan was back, turning on her heels and storming off, leaving him no choice but pathetically trail after her ridiculously short Cheerio skirt.

Kurt was more than surprised – and slightly amused at the irony – when they ended up in the janitor's closet.

"Um, Santana? Why are we in the closet?"

Her reply came quick, and now, Kurt was more than sure that there definitely was fear in her eyes.

"That's the thing. You're not in the closet."

He knew her next words before she uttered them through her trembling lips.

"_I_ am."

Oh boy.


End file.
